


Aarhus Universitet - Ansuz Raido Ravens

by ofhoneyandrosepetals



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23686546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofhoneyandrosepetals/pseuds/ofhoneyandrosepetals
Summary: Y/N is a freshman in Aarhus University and, being the roommate of both Torvi and Margrethe, that gives her some privileges and intel on the university, as it on the leading fraternity as well, Ansuz Raido Ravens, the Ragnarssons’ fraternity. Eventually, she gets engaged up with Ivar, who happened to gather a suspicious reputation among girls.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Reader, Ivar (Vikings)/You, Torvi/Ubbe (Vikings)
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

“Y/N, wake up,” you hear your roommate calling out for you, shaking your shoulder.

“What?” you mumble, sleepy.

“Time for the ritual, freshman,” even though your vision was blurred, you could see that Torvi was smiling, greedily. You frown, confused. _What is she talking about?,_ you ask to yourself.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Y/N,” you hear Margrethe saying from the bed above yours, and Torvi snapped her tongue at her, clearly annoyed. “C’mon, it will be fun!” Torvi dragged you out of your bed, leading you to her comber.

“What the fuck, Torvi?!”

“We’re gonna party, freshy, you need to look in the mood!”

“Oh my holy shit,” you roll your eyes. “Nothing too heavy, okay?” you say demandingly, waiting for Torvi to finish her work on you, finishing with a red lipstick. “I thought I said nothing too heavy,” you said looking at the mirror.

“You people gotta stop with those things that red lipstick is a ‘too much’. Here, take this,” Torvi handed you an extremely short and tight dress, way too sexy for your manners. You look at it with wide open eyes, in shook. “Come on, put it on!” your roommate encourages you. “And trust me when I say this: you’ll be the simplest at the party.”

“I thought people wore jean shorts with heels and cute shirts to uni parties.”

“Not this one. Not the Lothbrok’s Ritual Party. We go to kill, honey.” You hear Margrethe sighing heavily. “We should get going.”

“Wait; Margrethe, aren’t you coming?” you ask your other roommate.

“I rather not to. Good luck, Y/N,” she said with sincere eyes that made your guts tremble, going back to sleep as Torvi turned the lights off as you two left.

*

“Shit, it’s cold outside,” you say hugging yourself, trying to make yourself a little bit warm, since you haven’t bring a jacket or anything with you, while you two were crossing the campus.

“That’s just the night, don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

“Excuse me?”

“And you won’t be any cold at the party, actually.”

As you reached the house, you could see that the party was already at its full. The Ragnarssons had their own fraternity, called Ansuz Raido Ravens. All you heard about them it’s that they had quite a reputation. “Why is the party called ‘Lothbrok’ if their last name is different?”

“Lothbrok is a family nickname. It’s Ragnar’s, actually; it passed to his sons,” Torvi stepped at the house entrance stairs, full of people drinking, smoking, laughing and puking - yes, already. “I’ll show you around,” she said before entering the huge house.

It was crowded, as expected. Loud music was coming from some high tech sound system. You only followed Torvi through the crowd as she greeted every person there and they greeted you as well, since you were in her company. Torvi stopped and engaged herself with a tall, blonde guy, and you thought that maybe they would fuck right in the middle of the room with you standing right there, not really knowing what to do next in a party where you knew exactly no one, being a freshman.

“This is Ubbe, my boyfriend,” Torvi introduced you to him when they finished their hello-ritual. “Ubbe, this is Y/N, my freshman roommate that I told you about,” Ubbe looked at you head to toes, like if he was examining you.

“Not bad at all,” he said drifting his attention to Torvi, then smacking her ass. “When are we really going to get to know her?” he said leaning to kiss her.

“When your brothers show up, of course.”

“Hvitserk’s somewhere… again, and Ivar is trying to avoid all this people. He wasn’t really in the mood after…” Ubbe didn’t finish his sentence on purpose, looking at you. “People are too nosy, he says.”

You looked around, taking everyone in. You heard those names before, but you had never met any of them. One day, talking to Margrethe while you two were studying, she said: “you’re not missing much, actually. Be glad you haven’t crossed their path, but I’m sure Torvi will make sure to make it happen.”

As Margrethe had said…

“And Sigurd?” Torvi asked. Ubbe only shrugged.

“Sometimes I highly consider banishing him,” Torvi laughed, placing her hand at Ubbe’s chest. “Hey, Hvit’s coming. _Yo, Hvitserk! C’mere_ ,” Ubbe called for him.

A tall guy with dark blonde hair approached, straightening his belt and jeans.

“Man, all girls are crazy tonight! They all want a piece of this hot man,” Hvitserk said referring to himself. You only frowned at him. Maybe Margrethe was right: you weren’t missing much. “Yo, when is the ritual gonna begin? Is the chick already here? Maybe the Gods will throw her right in my arms, know what I’m saying?” he said while laughing, getting a cup of beer. You sighed.

“That _chick_ is already here, but I doubt that _the Gods_ would want me with you,” you say at him, mocking his tone and making him turn around and realizing you.

Hvitserk looked at you hungrily, biting and licking his lips at the sight of you. “You should know that I’m touched by the Gods, so I might have some luck with you…”

“ _I’m_ touched by the fucking Gods, you asshole,” you heard a male and annoyed voice saying, its owner being as blonde as Ubbe, messy long hair. He turned to look at you. His eyes were looking annoyed, and one of them was… different. At the moment you saw it, you didn’t want to stare too much, so instead you looked at his lips, curved in annoyance. That guy was the personification of annoyance. “I’m Sigurd,” he introduces himself to you.

“Y/N,” you respond. Hvitserk took a sip of his beer and handed it to Sigurd.

“Here, I’ll get some vodka for me. Beer’s your thing, anyway.”

You were feeling uncomfortable, not wanting to talk with any of them.

“When is Ivar going to show his ass? I want to start,” Sigurd complained.

“With Ivar we never know,” Ubbe said.

“Hey, isn’t him there? At the corner?” Torvi spotted him, Ubbe trying to do the same.

“Yes! _Yo, Ivar! Ivar!! Here! Yeah, come over here_!” Ubbe waved desperately at his brother.

You looked over your shoulder to see him coming.

Tough expression and blue eyes that would shine even brighter than the sun, his face framed with long dark hair. As he kept coming closer you notice that his right leg limped a little.

“What is it now?” he asked, his voice sounding rough and yet, in such roughness, a pinch of velvet.

“The ritual, man!” Hvitserk came back, sounding more excited. “Our freshman has finally arrived!” he passed his arm over your shoulder and Ivar looked at you.

Licking his lower lip before biting it, he raised an eyebrow at you, trying to look not-amused, indifferent.

“Fuck yeah, why not? Let’s start this shit show,” he said taking the lead.

“What will happen?” you ask, curious.

“The ritual!” Hvitserk answered, cheering.

“I know it, dumbass, I want to know what I’ll have to do.”

“Oh, plenty of things. It depends on our mood.”

“And I’m in a horny mood,” Hvitserk added after Sigurd.

Ivar was heading in the direction of the booze table.

“Usually we start with shots,” Ivar announced. “Shit show’s later,” Ivar was taking care of the shots.

“What is this shit show?” you ask whispering to Sigurd.

“It’s when we have audience. And expectation. Ivar doesn’t like it.”

“So why he does it?” Sigurd looked at you like if you had just spoken a made up language, not saying a thing.

“Here, freshy,” Ivar said, handing you the first shot and then giving everyone else one too. “It’s tequila, so don’t forget it,” he pointed to the table where you could see lemon slices and salt. _Probably there’s more of that_ , you thought. You were holding a loud laugh; those guys would try to make you drunk, but they had no idea that they wouldn’t make it.

Your entry in college was an agreement with your parents. You were deep in shit and having drinking problems - whiskey. Those shots, of whatever they would give you, wouldn’t make it. You were far too strong for booze.

You drank the first shot.

Then the second.

And the third.

And Ivar switched the drink - vodka.

Two more.

It all went down like water.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Torvi asked you.

“Excellent,” you answered completely sober, not giving a hint of what you just had, shrugging your shoulders, indifferently.

“ _What_?” Hvitserk protested. Ivar was examining you.

“Give her our father’s special,” Sigurd suggested.

Ivar, without drifting eyes of yours, poured in the cup a liquid that seemed gold. You held his gaze. When he handed it to you, he smiled a bit, a suggestive smile, slightly shaking his head. He was looking like if he had already understood - about your superpower.

You drank it all at once.

“One more, please.”

All the guys and Torvi looked at you baffled.

“Keep filling her cup, brother,” Ubbe whispered to Sigurd, who nodded in agreement. “We can’t lose the fucking _first_ trial.”

“Let’s get to know you better, honeybunny,” Hvitserk said while passing again his arm around your shoulders. Ivar rolled his eyes.

You all took place in the living room, sitting on the floor.

“You guys, you guys!” Hvitserk stood on the coffee table to make his announcement. “Never Have I Ever time!” all the crowd cheered up at Hvitserk’s words.

“Oh holy shit,” you said to no one in particular.

“Yeah, I know,” Ivar contoured you to take a spot at the floor. “Just don’t lie. Sooner or later we always know the truth.”

You sat right across Ivar, feeling burned by the blue of his eyes.

“I’m gonna start easy,” started Hvitserk.

“Shouldn’t you tell our freshy the rules?” Torvi asked.

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Okay. Rules: only the Ragnarssons are able to make the statements, but everyone can drink - or not. As I was saying, I’m gonna start easy. Never have I ever fucked in the car.”

Hvitserk raised his cup and took a long sip. Everyone did the same - are at least the most and all the four brothers, including Torvi. Everyone paid special attention on you; you were about to take a sip, but then you took the cup down.

“What is it?” Hvitserk asked. “Do we have here a saint?”

“I don’t know; you said car, but not motorcycles,” Sigurd choked. Ubbe laughed loudly and Hvitserk stared at you, both surprised and amused. Ivar only smiled, his eyes piercing yours.

“How does that work, anyways?” you heard a guy asking from the crowd. You shrug.

“It just do.”

“How is it?” another ask.

“Nice. In all its sexual matter,” some guys make a little of a rumble.

“Ivar has a bike! Fast one!” you hear one girl screaming from a corner, and then all the guys made a howling sound of excitement. You looked at Ivar - he was looking indifferently at you.

“Maybe I can show you how to use one properly,” you take the shot, trying not to be intimidated by the way he was looking at you now.

“Maybe in the end I’ll show you how,” the guys whooped at him, excitedly.

You only held his gaze, once again.

“Okay, my turn,” Ubbe said.

As the game kept going, the tension between you and Ivar was increasing. Everytime he took a sip of his cup, he did it not looking away from you, and you did the same; but he still haven’t said one “never have I ever”.

“Your turn, Ivar. It’s part of the ritual, don’t be a pain in the ass,” Hvitserk said. You frowned.

“Ivar’s always the last one to ask before we head you to the next trial,” Sigurd responded to your frown. “That was the deal if he had to take part in this. He asks only once and he’s the last one.”

Ivar sighed heavily, throwing his head back. “Man, I hate this.”

He kept looking at the ceiling while everyone waited for his statement. No one dared to rush him. One of Ivar’s legs was bent while the other one, the right, the one that was limping, was steading straight on the floor. Ivar scratched his nuts discreetly.

“Never have I ever…” he positioned his head to look at you. “Had my dick hard in inappropriate situations.”

You knew what he just did there. All men laughed and drank from their cups. Now you wasn’t sure if Ivar’s “I hate this” was about his turn in the game or his hard dick, that certainly was happening to him.

“How can girls answer this? We don’t have dicks,” Torvi said and all girls agreed with her.

“You can answer this with being completely wet. It’s your equivalent to our hard dicks, anyway. Or with the feeling of… little itchiness down there. You pick,” Ivar took another sip. You filled your cup and drank it all at once, again. Everyone waved. If eyes could burn, you or Ivar would be already burned. Slowly, his hands drifted around his hair, pulling it into a man bun.

Hvitserk took place once again on the coffee table to make the announcements.

“Spin the bottleeeeeeeeee!!” he screamed. He was definitely way too drunk already.

“I thought this was a uni party, and not a high school one,” you said to Torvi.

“What, aren’t you having fun?” you raise an eyebrow at her. “Anyways, their ‘spin the bottle’ is a little different.”

“How come?”

“It’s the normal spin, of course, but after a several numbers of spin… how can I say that to you… if the bottle stops at one of the brothers, you’ll have to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with him.”

“What?!”

“If it stops at you, then you’re free to go, or to choose the brother. Sometimes they pick some random girls to play along, but this time will only be me.”

“Okay. That’s totally cool, but… Hvitserk is losing his ass, I hate to kiss drunk guys, it’s just a saliva mess, it’s disgusting.”

“Trust me, Hvitserk’s never too drunk to do wrong what he likes the most. Plus, that’s your concern? Not the fact that you’ll probably kiss my boyfriend?” she asks, not really meaning it.

“Come on Torvi, do I really have to answer it?”

“Nope,” she kisses you on the cheek before going to the other room, where they all were already sat around the bottle. You sat between Ubbe and Sigurd.

“This one doesn’t have much audience than the last one; only the perverts watch it.”

“Great, it’s my kinky to have people getting off on me,” Sigurd laughed and Ivar looked annoyed at the both of you, as if the fact that you made Sigurd laugh was a sin.

“I should remind our lovely honeybunny that I’m touched by the Gods, so I sure am the one who will both kiss her and play Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“For the last time, for fuck’s sake, _I’m_ the one who got touched, you bitch,” Sigurd spits at Hvitserk.

“Your eye is not a blessed one, it’s only a biological failure,” Hvitserk said with a drunk serious tone and sat. Sigurd rolled his eye.

“What happens if one of you spins the bottle and it stops at another one of you?” you ask to Ubbe.

“Truth or dare. We usually use it to expose each other.”

“Always ends in fight,” Torvi adds.

“Oh, that’s fun,” you whisper to yourself, hoping that the night ends soon.

“I’ll start,” Sigurd says, spinning the bottle.

It stopped at Torvi.

“Oh, c’mere,” she said all sweety and kissed him, wide open mouth, tongues dancing around each other, for everyone to see, specially Ubbe. Torvi was on her knees, and Ubbe took the chance to caress her ass.

“That’s my girl,” he said when Sigurd shoved her off, gently. Torvi quickly kissed Ubbe on his lips.

“Your turn,” Sigurd said to you. _Shit_. You spinned the bottle with too much strength. It kept spinning, spinning and spinning. You were praying to all the Gods that ever existed for the bottle doesn’t stop at Hvitserk. _Not with this asshole, not with him, not with him_. You gasped when it stopped at nothing more than you.

“This is some unusual lucky,” Ubbe said. “Guess it’s my turn, then,” his spin stopped at Ivar. “My little brother,” he said slowly.

“Dare,” Ivar said without thinking twice.

“I dare you to kiss our freshy meat,” your eyes are wide open; you were caught out off guard.

“Only if she agrees to it,” Ivar said, looking over at you for the first time in the game. You only nod, suddenly nervous. Ivar approaches you like a lion. “I hate to give shows like this. Don’t be too hopeful,” he whispers in your ear only for you to hear it.

Ivar goes directly to your lips, forcing you to open it for him. It’s a rough kiss, and Ivar was dominating it, not giving you any space or any lead. You were out of breath within seconds, and you hold his forearm to steady yourself, even though you were sat.

As fast as he had reached for your lips, he broke apart.

You had forgot how to breath.

“Don’t break our little girl here with your brutality, you animal,” Hvitserk said to Ivar, who had nothing to say to his brother. You bit your lips, feeling embarrassed. Torvi spinned the bottle. It stopped at you.

All of them howled at you two.

“Now I’ll know what Ivar said at the Never Have I Ever,” you heard Hvitserk saying.

“Disgusting,” you hear Torvi responding him, playfully. She crawled to you, almost sitting on your lap. “Don’t worry, I’m softer than Ivar.”

Torvi held your face with both of her hands, then kissed your lips gently, peck kisses. You were holding her wrists, not sure where to put your hands. You decide to open your mouth to her, and her tongue slid into it.

“Man, I’m getting backstage here,” Ubbe said.

Torvi didn’t took too long with your kiss, knowing that you were feeling uncomfortable with all that male attention. “We can finish later,” she said, and you only smiled, not really meaning it.

The game kept going while the boys picked each other and, as Ubbe had said, exposed themselves. At some point Hvitserk tried to punch Sigurd, but Ubbe kept them away.

You kissed Sigurd, you kissed Ubbe, and you had kissed Hvitserk twice.

Until Hvitserk announced: “it’s the deciding spin. Y/N, please. And may the Gods be in my favour.”

You wanted for the bottle to stop at Ivar. You wanted more of that rough kiss, you wanted more of him.

When you spin it, all of them were staring at the bottle, as if they had some kind of superpower over it. But not Ivar, oh no. Ivar had a playful little smile on his face, and he was looking up to the ceiling.

The bottle was slowly stopping.

To point at Ivar.

“ _What?? No!_ ” Hvitserk protests.

You look up at everyone.

“Seven Minutes in Heaven with Ivar!”


	2. Chapter 2

_The bottle was slowly stopping._

_To point at Ivar._

_“What?? No!” Hvitserk protests._

_You look up at everyone._

_“Seven Minutes in Heaven with Ivar!”_ Ubbe announces loudly with a rough voice. Everyone shouts.

“And that’s the expectation,” Sigurd says over to you.

You walk over to Ivar, who placed a hand in your back while guiding you to the pantry. Your heart was at full speed and you were eager, feeling yourself grow wet just at the thought of having him.

He closed the door behind him. The only light you had was the light of the night that one little window was providing.

Ivar was approaching you and you were stepping back, until your back reached the wall and he placed a hand on the wall over your head, his chest slightly touching your breasts.

“Do you want it?” he ask you, his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath. The tip of his nose touched yours.

“Yeah,” that was the only thing you could manage.

His lips touched yours, more gently this time. Your hands went for his nape, but not before undoing his man bun, making his hair fall over his shoulders and making you sigh. His hands are firmly gripping your hip as you kiss him back, because this time he’s giving you both space and lead to do so.

His tongue playing with yours is enough to drive you nuts. You make motion to cross your legs around his waist, and he understands it immediately.

His hands go from your waist to your thighs, pulling you up and placing you right in spot against the wall, you being able to cross your legs around his waist. “Gods,” you hear him mumble before licking and biting your lower lip.

Ivar doesn’t waste time on placing his hands on your ass, squeezing it.

“We have less than seven minutes now and I want you,” you say between kisses.

“Seven minutes aren’t enough,” he responds breathless.

“Make it be. We can always finish later.”

Ivar lifts the skirt of your tight dress and, holding you still, his weight against your body and using the wall as support, he unbuttoned his jeans, sliding it down together with his boxers. You see that he’s already hard.

“I’ve been like this since that bike subject came up,” he said playfully. You couldn’t say if it was true, but one thing was sure: that that subject made him horny. You watched him put the condom, ably. The sight of his thick and long cock was being enough for you. He slid your panties to the side and entered you, ruthless. You left a moan out and pulled hard his hair.

His first thrusts were slow, every one of them making you moan lowly, down in your throat. As he kept his pace going, a pleasure feeling grew even more inside of you.

“You can go faster, you know, I won’t break,” you say at him almost out of breath.

And so he did it.

When he first thrusted you fast and hard, your moan was almost a scream of pleasure. “Do you want me to go like that inside of you?” he asks you, your back thrusting the wall behind.

“Yes,” you moan loudly.

His pace was increasing, Ivar grunting and moaning loudly. Every now and then he would nestle his head in the curve of your neck and kiss and suck you there, leaving hickeys, while you caressed his hair.

He was going hard and fast, and that was fast enough to make you come. When you first felt your walls clenching, you went forward to kiss him.

“I’m feeling your cunt,” he said between the kiss. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you only moaned in response, breathing heavily.

When you came, a scream of pleasure left your mouth, and Ivar came right behind you, moaning as well.

You were catching your breath when he said: “I’m not finished with you, freshman.”

“And who said _I_ was?” you hit back.

“I might show up anytime soon in your room. Just make sure you’re alone,” Ivar gives you a wild kiss before opening the door. “You first.”

When you showed up in the living room everyone greeted you, screaming excitedly and raising their cups. One random guy gave you another cup of what the Ragnarssons called “father’s special”. Ivar followed you behind, discreetly slapping your ass.

“We’re not over with you, girl,” he said, motioning for you to follow him, not looking back to see if you were indeed doing it.

Following him through all those sweat bodies, he guided you to the pool area. _Damn, that’s huge_ , you thought, looking at the pool and it’s deepness.

Looking around you notice that Hvitserk is standing on the pool diving board, holding a sword made of cans - beer cans, you assumed.

“I,” Hvitserk started, screaming, completely and highly drunk and happy. “Me! The Prince! Hvitserk White Shirt! I declare the beginning of The Keg Stand Games! Hosted by our lovely freshy meat!” when he said that, he pointed the can-sword at you, but at the same time Sigurd stood on the diving board too and pushed Hvitserk into the water, not giving him time to finish whatever he was going to finish. Sigurd took Hvitserk’s place.

“Everybody knows the rules, right?” he said in a loud and good tone. Everyone cheered. “In case anyone’s dumb and missed, I’ll repeat them: the hoster - that happens to be Y/N, our hot freshman,” he pointed to you, “will give the honors, and go first. ARR will follow her, beating her score - as we always do, successfully. Any brave man or woman can join us later. Y/N has to finish the game by trying to beat the highest score made until the given moment.”

“And everyone jumps in the poooooool!” Hvitserk screams from the pool, raising his fists and throwing water at anyone he could reach.

Ubbe pulls you up to his shoulder and drags you to the keg stand. You see Ivar sat in a corner, alone, just taking everything in.

You got positioned and started to drink.

One thing was to be strong with alcohol, and other was to manage a fucking keg stand. You had never did it before because you thought that this was for stupid jocks in high school, but here you were. You had no idea of what time would be good for you to be in advantage, so you just decide to do your maximum, avoiding the thought of having to be here once again.

Maybe, if you get a really high score, none of the Ragnarssons will be able to beat you, and so you don’t have to beat your own score - you hoped so.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…” the crowd shouted while you drank.

“Fifty-seven, fifty-eight…” you were beginning to feel tired, and wanted to get out of there and just lie down.

“Seventy-three…” you pulled the spout out of your mouth and everyone cheered.

“Seventy-three, everyone!” Ubbe announced.

You sat by the pool, trying to catch your breath and not puke. Ubbe was on the keg stand now, and no one paid attention on you, except for Ivar, who was coming closer to sit next to you.

“Hey, look at you. And here I thought you were strong,” you looked over to him. His eyes were looking devilish.

“I had never drank anything from upside down. It’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, I understand. Well, you almost beat me and Hvitserk,” you looked inquisitively at him. “Hvitserk is in first place, I’m right behind him. Then comes Ubbe and Sigurd.”

“Shit,” you mumble, thinking of how much time you’ll have to be there again.

“I only get the chance to beat him in our ritual parties, so… yeah, I’m sorry. And we’ll punish you if we see that you didn’t even tried to beat us. You gotta do at least your own score.”

“Fuck,” you moan and lie on your back, your feet into the water.

“Your only problem would be your full stomach. Puke’s a cheating, by the way,” Ivar leaves, but not before throwing some water at you.

You hear everyone screaming - Ubbe already beat you. _I’m so fucked_.

Looking at the sky, with a deadpan face, you hear Hvitserk beating Ubbe and then Sigurd losing from all of them. It was Ivar’s time.

You get up to watch his turn, seeing his muscular arm gripping the keg and Ubbe and Hvitserk holding his legs up.

Ivar goes to twenty seconds, then from twenty to forty, and from forty to one minute.

Hvitserk made two minutes, while Ivar was going on his way on beating him.

“One-forty-eight, one-forty-nine, one-fifty, one-fifty-one,” and Ivar spat the spout. Everyone cheered so loud that you felt in a stage. Ubbe went to mess his brother’s hair.

“Fuck y’all, man! I beat you!” Ivar screamed to Hvitserk in a rough scream that, if the situation wasn’t cheerful, it would made you feel scared of him. He and Hvitserk jumped, pounding their chests against each others, like common males - as you thought and rolled your eyes.

“Now,” Ubbe started and everyone went silent. Only the music could be heard, and everyone looked at you. No brave man or woman dared to go after Ivar; they were too excited and anxious to see your last turn.

“Okay,” you said, going to the keg.

“I’ll reward you later, if you want to…” Ivar whispered in your ear, holding one of your legs. Sigurd took the other.

And you begin.

You notice that Ivar is slightly caressing your leg in order to deconcentrate you. You try to focus as you reach the twenty seconds. Ivar keeps increasing his caressings, and all you think is _you stupid bastard_. He has no idea what he’s doing; as he goes further, you only get more determined to beat him.

Fifty seconds.

_You can do it_ , you think to yourself.

Ivar’s free hand goes to your hair, taking a strand away from your face, his thumb passing through your cheekbone.

You ignore it the harder you can.

“One-eighteen!”

Almost beating Hvitserk.

“Man, she’s gonna beat you!” Sigurd screams over to Hvitserk, who raises his can-sword and screams “skål, honeybunny!”

You beat Hvitserk and everyone screams, raising their cups and drinking.

“Oh, are you gonna make it? Are you a naughty girl?” Ivar whispers, gripping harder your leg.

You only continue.

“One-fifty…”

“Oh, fuck,” you hear Ivar genuinely cursing.

“One-fifty-one, one-fifty-two, one-fifty-three…” everyone started to scream your name as you already had beaten Ivar. You spit the spout at one-sixty.

More than Ivar.

If you thought that you had felt yourself in a stage when Ivar won, it’s because you had no idea how would it be when _you_ won.

Ubbe and a random guy lifted you up on their shoulders, screaming your name, as they went in the pool’s direction.

“Wait wait wait wait wait! Are you guys going to throw me there?!”

“Those are the rules!”

“What? No!”

But it was too late, you were already in the cold water.

Yep, that pool was indeed deep, as you had imagined.

You reached the bottom of it, feeling very heavy. _I can’t pass out, not after all of this_. With all of your strength, you tried to swim to the top, but people kept jumping in the pool, making it hard for you.

You feel someone grabbing you by your arms and pulling you up.

It was Torvi.

When you felt the cold night air you took a deep breath, filling your lungs.

“Thank you,” you said out of breath. Torvi only smiled and swam to Ubbe.

You weren’t feeling drunk, but definitely a little dizzy. You lied down on the grass, trying to not take off your dress.

You had the impression of someone screaming your name, congratulating you for passing the ritual and beating - the first outsider - the Ragnarssons’ score. You fell asleep as fast as Ivar had first kissed you.

No one dared to get close to you, but Ivar kept an eye on you to make sure you would be okay through the night.


End file.
